Talk:Nova/@comment-25162335-20150211183604/@comment-24796133-20150213221402
I'm sitting on the roof in the dead of night. Two days have passed, two days filled with a lot of tension, nerves and lack of communication. We got a one word reply from Quantum, 'aknowledged'. That was it. It makes me wonder whether they were hoping we were dead by now. I've almost forgotten the reason they sent us out here, for me to die. How can I be more of an outcast now than before the virus. I look down at my hands and see the yellow skin. Oh yeah, that's why. I realise just how jealous I am of all the others at this point. They can all hide their powers, stick in some contact lenses and go out an mingle with the rest of the world. I don't have that luxury. Jacob can hide his bones at any time, Cara doesn't need to absorb powers, yet here I am stuck as a half monster with sickly yellow skin with all these stupid brown patches on it and blood red eyes that make people think I want to kill them. Sometimes I do as well. They don't realise hwo lucky they are. They all mope and groan about being a mutant, having purple eyes and being hunted. How many of them look like a demon from the pits of hell, have been sent on a suicidal mission, have already lost people like them. My thoughts stray to my hours in the gas station, just before the London battle. The boy in the hoodie, the one with marks on his face. He knew how this felt. To be permenantly scarred so no-one could ever look at you the same way again. I wonder if it was a mercy, that he was killed so early on. No-one should ever have to die at such a young age, but a boy living in a world where everyone would turn him away, that would crush his soul. I know how that feels. A small part of me hopes they survived, that by some miracle those three mutants we saved are all still out there, maybe doing alright for themselves. But I'm a realist. There's little to no chance that they survived, they probably never knew what was coming their way until it hit them. That older mutant, the tall boy with long dark hair, what was his name? I remember his power, those shockwaves of some kind, but not his name. Is that terrible? I don't know. And Tyrone, I doubt I'll ever stop having nightmares about him. I trace back the events that have led me here. My first change into Diablo, running into the mutant group in London, finding Zoe, breaking into the NCO group, Quantum finding us, Paris, and now here. My entire saga hasn't been a happy one, nor a successful one. It makes my blood boil, quite literally, I can sense the heat in my body. For some reason I feel like I've only scraped the surface of my abilities. Surely there must be some positives to being the creature i've become. Can i even by classified as human anymore? God knows. All my rage over my past makes me want to attack something, badly. Why did Jacob let Surfer go? We should have torn his throat out and sent his severed head as a warning to all the other mutants, or better still entered the place ourselves and cut down everyone in our path. And as for my so called allies, what are they worth? All they've done is hold me back, take the glory for themselves. Jacob and his stupid terminator, making friends with the enemy. For all I know he's one of them now. Get rid of him. And as Cara, she has the mark, she's probably plotting against me now. Those two are in league, they must be. All the time I was unconscious they were planning, waiting. And Ghost, the bloody illusive Ghost, they're all betraying me now. Kill them. Kill them all. I snap my head up. What just happened? Strange thoughts, dark thoughts, why would I doubt my own friends? They've only helped me. Probably the wound, the healing is messing with my head. It's sealed up now but is still pretty tender, no running until tomorrow I reckon. And tomorrow is the day Mecca is supposed to be attacked. I really want to do something to stop that, maybe Pluto himself is there, leading the attack. Not likely, but I'm itching for a rematch, on my terms this time. It's only a matter of time until I run into him again, and this time I'll tear him in two.